


The Lion That Haunts My Dreams

by Llama1412



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Child Murder, Dark, Gen, Genocide, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Suicidal Thoughts, Survivor Guilt, implied/referenced child murder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-13
Updated: 2020-05-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 22:01:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 966
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24153979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Llama1412/pseuds/Llama1412
Summary: Calanthe does what is needed to protect her kingdom.Dara just wants to forget.Two perspectives on a genocide.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15
Collections: Banned Banned Together Bingo 2020, Banned Together Bingo 2020





	The Lion That Haunts My Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Banned Together Bingo for the prompt Sympathetic Villain. Credit to Val on Discord for the title!
> 
> Please read the tags! This is a story about genocide!

Calanthe knew what the elves said about her. She had seen the propaganda, seen the graffiti someone had painted in blood.  _ Child killer,  _ they called her.  _ Tyrant, genocidal queen, monster  _ – these were all common insults.

Not that she cared what elves called her. They could try to convince themselves that they were the victims here, that she and her men were the villains, but they were only doing what needed to be done. If the elves hadn’t tried to take Cintran land during Filavandrel’s uprising, then she would have let the refugees be. But afterwards? When it was clear these camps were inciting violence against Cintra – well, Calanthe was Queen of Cintra and Cintra was a  _ human _ kingdom. It may have been built on the ruins of an Elvish city, but that was centuries ago. The elves had no one to blame but themselves. By rising against her, they forced Calanthe to eliminate them. They brought this extermination upon themselves.

“Danek,” she called to her Knight Commander. “Make sure the men sweep the surroundings for any that got away. There are no survivors.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Danek bowed.

Calanthe cleaned the blood off her sword. She didn’t enjoy killing, despite what some may say. She enjoyed fighting, yes definitely – but killing pathetic elves? Half of them hadn’t even put up a fight. Some of them couldn’t – women and children too young to wield a blade. It was a shame, but they had chosen to stay in a camp with terrorists. Calanthe was simply doing what was needed to protect her kingdom.

Just last month, Elven spies had given an assassin information to sneak into the castle. They had been aiming for Calanthe, but instead, they had found her granddaughter’s room. The poor child, twelve years old and still so innocent, still believing in the good of this world – she had woken up to a man standing over her and screamed loudly enough to alert the whole castle.

Thank the gods. If Ciri had been injured, Calanthe would have burned all of those responsible to the ground herself. 

The elves were lucky. Dying by sword was much more honorable than by fire. She was granting them a swift death, even though they were undeserving. They should be grateful.

Not that there were any left alive  _ to _ be grateful, but it was the principle of the matter. She was being as merciful as she was able to, even if no one else saw that.

––

A year later, a young elf boy helped the Princess of Cintra escape the siege that killed her people. Dara hadn’t known Ciri was the princess at the time. If he had, he wasn’t sure if he would have stopped her from eating those poisonous berries.

That was an awful thing to think, but Ciri’s grandmother had slaughtered his family, everyone he had ever known. How different could Ciri be?

He hoped the answer was “very different”, but here in Brokilon Forest, it hardly mattered. They were both refugees, both hungry, cold, and scared children that the dryads had offered sanctuary to.

And not just sanctuary. They said the waters here could make him forget, and he wanted that more than anything. When he closed his eyes, he wanted to stop hearing the screams of his mother, the ring of a blade being drawn, the splatter of blood, and worst of all, the laughing. He wanted so badly to forget the way the soldiers had laughed and joked as they destroyed everything he had ever known.

The only reason he had survived was because he was a coward. He had hidden, buried under the debris that had been his family’s tent, and he had stayed so very, very quiet. Dara stayed quiet one soldier grabbed his baby nephew by the leg and swung him around violently until his cries stopped. Dara stayed quiet when the woman who had given him an extra blanket screamed and cried while the soldiers laughed harder, amused by her struggle. Dara stayed quiet until the soldiers were gone, until he was the only one left in a field of corpses that used to be his home.

Dara had stayed quiet and had heard his life crumble around him. Every word he spoke now was a struggle. Each time, it felt like he was back in that dark space, breathing shallowly and terrified that this time, the soldiers would find him. 

He couldn’t go on like this. He wanted more than anything to forget his pain, to forget his  _ shame.  _ The dryads were offering him that.

He should have known Ciri would ruin it, would ask him to leave with her. He didn’t understand – she had seen the siege firsthand, and she had run too. Didn’t she want to forget it all?

Didn’t she struggle each morning to live with herself, knowing that she was alive while all of them were dead? Didn’t her words turn to ash in her mouth, knowing that she  _ should _ have been dead and it was only pure luck that she wasn’t? Didn’t she feel a weight on her chest, knowing that every breath she took was one they would never take again?

He did, and he wanted more than anything for it to stop. He could still hear that horrific laughing, like the soldiers were haunting him – or perhaps his family was, all the friends that he had stayed quiet instead of helping. Dara would want to hurt him if he were them.

He needed to forget. It was the only option he could live with. If Ciri wanted to chase her destiny, that was on her. His destiny had been to die alongside his people, and he’d run away from it. His destiny was behind him and he needed to forget it all.


End file.
